Home Sweet Home
by Jen-Louise
Summary: "You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" Rory's question startled her.  "What? Thinking of who?" She quickly started placing plates and pans in the cupboard, trying to make up for lost time dreaming of what could have been.  "You know who."


_**AN2: So, I just had a bit of a spring clean in my documents on my laptop and found this, author s note and all, just waiting to be put online. I can t remember why I didn t put it out, but it s probably because I wasn t happy with how it turned out, so don t shout at me if it s no good. Anyway seeing as I ve introduced it before allons-y!**_

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><em><strong>AN: This is my first Doctor Who fanfic, and I don t read many, so sorry if this isn t what you are used to. I didn t actually know what to put this as, Amy/Eleven or Amy/Rory, because there are bits of both. It s set five years after The Doctor has left Amy and Rory in their house. I wrote this just after The God Complex and seeing as this isn t the last we ll see of Amy and Rory, this is probably so non-canon that it won t even make sense in a few week s time. I hope I wrote it clearly enough for people to understand. Let me know if it s not clear enough. Thanks, enjoy :)**_

A shiver ran up Amy's spine as she took the last of the washing from the line and hurried back into the warmth of the house. The sun had just dipped below the horizon and, in the shadow of the row of houses, there was a biting chill. The sound of a key in a lock drew Amy's attention back to the task at hand, and she quickly folded the clothes and piled them up in a neat stack ready to take upstairs.  
>"Evening." She felt her husband kiss her cheek before she saw him, and turned to see him grinning goofily at her. She sighed. He was perfect. He was brilliant, in fact. He was the bravest man she knew, the most beautiful man she knew, he was Rory.<p>

"Good Evening." she replied, the routine never changed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, the warm feeling of his embrace was a comfort after the icy chill had settled over her for the day. The day of walking around the house, picking up stray clothes, hoovering until the carpets wore thin, cooking to pass the time. That's all she ever did these days. Pass the time. Not run with the time, or against the time, or through time itself. She passed the time. "How are things at the hospital?"

And so the conversation continued, "How was your day?"  
>"Not bad, yours?"<br>"Can't complain." Into "Mrs Bridges was in again. That hip of hers won't leave her alone."  
>"Oh dear, send her my love." Then into "Lovely potatoes."<br>"Thanks, they're fresh from the garden."

It was as she put away the dishes after Rory had cleaned them that the chill set back in. Five years and nothing had changed. Rory had changed jobs, as had she. He re-painted the house bright yellow once, the old colour becoming too dull. She'd dug up the garden and turned it into a large, beautiful, vegetable patch. Her orchard trees grew at the far end and a bench sat beneath the well trimmed branches. But everything was as it always had been in the house. It was as homey as a house gets, the smell of fresh bread lingering in the kitchen as if there were a loaf in the oven at that moment. The light, distant buzz of bees as they dart between the flowers in the garden. The warmth of the crackling fire in the living room. But the silence still haunted Amy. Not the type that hides in the shadows, that you see and forget, that live just out of sight, but the type that hangs over the house and rings with emptiness.

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" Rory's question startled her.  
>"What? Thinking of who?" She quickly started placing plates and pans in the cupboard, trying to make up for lost time dreaming of what could have been.<br>"You know who." He turned back to the washing up and tipped away the water. He hesitated a moment, waiting for her to speak, but she just stared at him silently, so he left. As the door closed behind him Amy released a breath she hadn't even noticed she was holding and sat at the abandoned dining table. It was a bright sunshine yellow, matching the outside of the house and reminding her of sunflowers. She wept openly for the first time since the blue box disappeared across the road. She wept for him.

Rory lay motionless beside her, only his deep, slow breaths letting her know he was there. She stared at the ceiling. There was a gentle orange glow from a street lamp across the road. Across the road where on that day so many years ago, so long ago that the memory was starting to fade at the edges...she could still remember his face though. She'd never forget it. She'd never let the look of those eyes meeting hers for the last time, with the understanding that it was indeed the last time, leave her mind. She'd take that memory to the grave. She'd take it with her forever.

Suddenly the sheets she lay between felt too itchy, the air too stuffy. So she sat up, walked to the window and looked up at the night sky. The stars were so far away, but she remembered a time when she could reach out and touch them. A time when they were as close as an arm's reach away. A time when- A sound interrupted her mid-thought. The once familiar sound was so alien to her that at that moment she almost wanted to run back into bed, pull the sheets above her head, and curl up beside Rory. That moment quickly passed as her eyes saw the most perfect blue, and a big blue box across the street. Right in the spot, directly beneath the street lamp, where it had been all those years ago. She couldn't remember running for the door as a man stepped casually out of the box. She didn't remember sprinting down the stairs, all she could remember was the look on the face of the mad-man with the box as she threw herself out of the front door in nothing more than a nightie and a pair of slippers. It was a look of complete adoration.

Before she knew it she was in his arms, holding on with all she had, holding on so tight she could barely breathe, and all she could do was hold on tighter.  
>"Amy...it's okay, Amelia Pond...I've got you."<br>His hand stroked at her hair and pulled her closer to him. She could feel the tears streaming down her face but couldn't quite place why they were there.  
>"Don't go Doctor...don't leave me again."<br>He realeased her from his tight embrace and looked her straight in the eye.  
>"I'm not going anywhere."<p>

And then her lips met his, and for the most blissful of moments they were as one, entangled with each other. Then they had to come away for air, and he stepped away from her. He stepped just out of reach and she couldn't move. All Amy could do was scream out, but her mouth wouldn't move. Push forward but her feet stayed still.  
>"I failed you, Amelia."<br>NO! No, don't go! Don't say that! She shouted in her mind but the words just wouldn't come out. It was like her body had gone numb, stopped responding to even the most important of demands. The most desperate of wishes. Don't let him leave me.

"I'm not a hero...I'm just a mad-man with a box...it's all I'll ever be."  
>Please, no. You're so much more to me than that!<br>"It's time we saw each other for what we are."  
>He was fading away. Each step he took back towards the box was unbearable. It took him another step out of reach.<br>"Goodbye, Amelia Williams."

"DOCTOR!" she screamed and kicked out in a futile attempt to stop him from leaving her, again.  
>"Amy..." A gentle hand brushed her hair from her clammy face and held a flannel to her forehead.<br>She slowly opened her eyes, the pale blue light of just before dawn filtering through the net curtains. And a kind, old face was looking down at her. A face that stood by her. That loved her.  
>"Rory." she choked out. "I-I'm sor-"<br>"I know." He smiled shakily. "It's okay." he whispered, as he always had and always would, holding out for the day that the man with his blue box would stop haunting her.

_**AN: Please R&R, any comments are welcome just don t flame me. I m not used to Doctor Who fan fics, this idea was just nagging me. And sorry it s posted so late after The God Complex , a bit of a wasted opportunity but better late than never, right?**_


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